Is it bigger than a bread box?
ETA of So Not The Drama, four months and three weeks. And each day closer to March 6th edges me closer to insanity.
I swing between manic levels of hope and lows fraught with anxiety, all because so much of what will happen between now and R-Day (and after) is one hundred percent out.of.my.control.
I can pretend that I'm worried about what reviewers will think of the book, how widely Kensington will distribute it, or if I'll make the Hot List of magazine XYZ. But the bare bones truth is, I'm afraid I won't find my readership. Or rather, they won't find me.
Or (worse?) the readership will be smaller than "acceptable," for someone claiming to be a serious writer.
Good reviews would be awesome. I love being loved.
Wide distribution? Aces. The more stores it's in the greater the chances readers will find it.
Making the Hot List of Seventeen or Girls Life wouldn't suck.
And yet, none of those things mean much if I can't tap into the readers that will love DRAMA. They're out there. I just have no idea who they are yet or how big the readership will be.
Up until ten minutes ago, that terrified me. But, now, thanks to a post by a fellow writer who pointed out that unless I plan on magic wanding my way to popularity, I need to move the hell on.
I could spend the next four months and three weeks wondering if Drama's readership will fill an arena, a high school auditorium or a class room.
Or, I could savor my place in the publishing food chain.
Three years ago, today, an agent from a well-established lit agency was holding my hand through revisions. No promises of representation, just an industry ear helping me along.
Two years ago, that same agent's rejection led me to take a short break from the manuscript and ponder my "options." As if there were any others besides getting this baby sold.
One year ago, DRAMA was making the rounds to publishers looking for a home.
Ta-da!
Like magic...well, very slow-working magic, the book is on its way to bookstores nationwide...
on the East Coast...
at my neighborhood bookstore...okay, wherever.
It's come a long way and and I'll do my part to get it into readers hands. Those who like it will be in for a fun journey with my clique. Those who don't will find other YA to rock their boat.
Hey, how come no one ever told me that the real fun in writing a book was this whole mental instability thing?
I swing between manic levels of hope and lows fraught with anxiety, all because so much of what will happen between now and R-Day (and after) is one hundred percent out.of.my.control.
I can pretend that I'm worried about what reviewers will think of the book, how widely Kensington will distribute it, or if I'll make the Hot List of magazine XYZ. But the bare bones truth is, I'm afraid I won't find my readership. Or rather, they won't find me.
Or (worse?) the readership will be smaller than "acceptable," for someone claiming to be a serious writer.
Good reviews would be awesome. I love being loved.
Wide distribution? Aces. The more stores it's in the greater the chances readers will find it.
Making the Hot List of Seventeen or Girls Life wouldn't suck.
And yet, none of those things mean much if I can't tap into the readers that will love DRAMA. They're out there. I just have no idea who they are yet or how big the readership will be.
Up until ten minutes ago, that terrified me. But, now, thanks to a post by a fellow writer who pointed out that unless I plan on magic wanding my way to popularity, I need to move the hell on.
I could spend the next four months and three weeks wondering if Drama's readership will fill an arena, a high school auditorium or a class room.
Or, I could savor my place in the publishing food chain.
Three years ago, today, an agent from a well-established lit agency was holding my hand through revisions. No promises of representation, just an industry ear helping me along.
Two years ago, that same agent's rejection led me to take a short break from the manuscript and ponder my "options." As if there were any others besides getting this baby sold.
One year ago, DRAMA was making the rounds to publishers looking for a home.
Ta-da!
Like magic...well, very slow-working magic, the book is on its way to bookstores nationwide...
on the East Coast...
at my neighborhood bookstore...okay, wherever.
It's come a long way and and I'll do my part to get it into readers hands. Those who like it will be in for a fun journey with my clique. Those who don't will find other YA to rock their boat.
Hey, how come no one ever told me that the real fun in writing a book was this whole mental instability thing?
posted by Paula at 9:58 PM
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